


In the Shadows' Wake

by Anchanted_One



Series: Tales from The Old Republic [7]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Do Not Copy To Another Site Without Permission, Gen, Mind Control, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:35:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25749736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anchanted_One/pseuds/Anchanted_One
Summary: Satele Shan describes the Revanite event for the Jedi Council.
Relationships: Lana Beniko/Male Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython
Series: Tales from The Old Republic [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1257356
Kudos: 6





	In the Shadows' Wake

* * *

**The Council Chambers, Tython**

Grand Master Satele Shan was pleased to see that every one of her fellow Councillors had been able to make it to this special session despite the lack of warning. The war had lost its intensity following the Battle of Ilum and the coup by Darth Malgus, but that didn’t mean they were free of its demands, and it was still rare for all twelve to be present.

“Thank you all for attending on such short notice,” Satele began. “A lot of import has happened since I led the 439th Fleet to Rishi, and events may be coming to a head again.”

A stir passed among the Council members, and Satele took a moment to study some of her colleagues: Bela Kiwiiks—nearly crippled and prematurely aged after her exposure to the Shock Drum superweapon, looked the most troubled, and Gnost-Dural the calmest. She could almost hear him begin his process of mental note-taking already; he would no doubt be in the Archives after the meeting ended, methodically writing down all that had transpired and compiling reports and issuing the detailed briefings that most Jedi would need to go with their new deployment orders.

Nearly as composed was Dayl Zoran. The handsome Nautolan blinked patiently, not a one of his tentacles twitching to show signs of nerves. His blue skin appeared paler than normal though; perhaps he was not getting enough moisture? He tended to forget such basic things sometimes, since for a Jedi the Force provided all the sustenance they needed. She made a mental note herself to speak to him about it later.

But barring these two, most of the others were agitated by her opening remark, and for good reason; at long last the Republic was winning this war. No one wanted a sudden reversal of fortunes now. Oteg’s ears twitched; Jerric Kaedan—almost killed on Ilum, but who survived his critical injuries by a hair—scowled so heavily his face seemed to split in half; Nikil Nobil tugged distractedly at his long beard; and Ibara Parc drummed her neatly manicured fingers on her armrest.

“Don’t keep us in suspense,” said the swan-necked Ida Delko.

Satele nodded. “Forgive me. Even now I have a hard time choosing where to begin…”

“Begin with Rishi,” Dayl suggested. “What happened when you arrived? We heard the news about a clash in the skies above but little else.”

“Very well. For the record, I took command of the 349th Fleet—which included eight Dreadnoughts and seventeen thousand soldiers in total—to investigate the rampant pirate activity plaguing our hyperlanes in the area. Reports had indicated that the pirates were backed by the Empire, and they seemed to be confirmed when we came out of Hyperspace within an hour of the Imperial Seventh Fleet under Darth Marr, and almost within firing range. Within the next ten minutes both fleets formed up and prepared for battle, but things were tense—the enemy fleet had emerged right in our faces, and it appeared that even they had been taken aback. Shots were fired and our light ships and fighter screens engaged without orders.

“Ground defenses of what we assumed was the Pirate base opened fire, adding to the confusion. Furthermore, our signals were being jammed, and then the chaos got worse—unidentified Light ships and fighters, both Republic and Imperial, rose up from Rishi and began to fire indiscriminately. It was all I could do to maintain order, but we were saved by an unexpected third—or rather  _ fourth _ —party; the defenses turned their fire on the unidentified ships, and the jamming tower was destroyed. We were contacted from the site by Darths Prowle and Nox, and our own Major Roban Queens of HAVOC Squad, requesting a cease-fire. In addition as soon as they disabled the jamming signal, both Darth Marr and myself received an extensive list of traitors who had embedded themselves in both fleets.”

“Both sides?” Oteg blurted. “Who were they serving?”

“They were members of an Organization called the Order of Revan—the Revanites for short. It had once been a minor and mostly benign cult in Imperial Space, but now it had become a large and twisted entity, spanning both Republic and Empire, and boasting members very high up in both sides. Colonel Darok and Darth Arkous—who led the seemingly miraculous simultaneous raids on Tython and Korriban, and their subsequent relief—were both part of this group, and had evidently collaborated in what we now know was a robbery by the Revanites.”

“Which one led the Revanites?” Kaedan asked. “Was it Arkous?”

“No. It was Revan himself.”

“Impossible!” Oteg declared. “He was killed in the Foundry.”

“It was… complicated,” Satele massaged her temples. “Suffice it to say, he somehow managed to… split at the time of his death. Most of his soul—the Light half, as it were—became spirit, but his vengeful, paranoid part reinhabited his body, and awoke in the Revanite chambers, where a few deranged members had stolen and stored his body to be interred in their cult’s Headquarters. I’m told he caused quite a stir when literally he rose back up from the dead.

“After returning, he immediately won the allegiance of those who already claimed to serve him anyway. Then with the aid of a prominent ex-Privateer, he contacted survivors of the Republic forces protecting the Foundry, and enlisted their aid too. Within days of his… return, he was back with a vengeance.”

“Remarkable!” Gnost-Dural whispered.

“What was he trying to do?” Ida asked.

Satele grunted sourly. “He seemed to be under the Emperor’s thrall, trying to weaken His enemies and then bring Him back; but clearly thinking he was doing the opposite—ridding the galaxy of Him. He seemed to think that he was the only one who was capable of such a task.” 

Real light bulb, that one. Ever since that encounter Satele had felt a lot less proud admitting they were related.

“You speak as if his threat is ended,” Ida remarked. “Does that mean he has been stopped for good? If so, then what is this new wrinkle you wanted to talk to us about?”

“He is dead, alright. And for good. Arro defeated him, and we all watched his spirit Depart. But Revan was partly successful: the Emperor’s spirit has reawakened.”

The room went silent. Then it erupted. Everybody was asking questions at once: His spirit has returned? What did she mean? What would this mean for the war? What immediate threat did he pose?

But they quieted down soon enough, after which Gnost-Dural asked a question of his own. “Arro, you say? I thought I sensed him aboard your ship when you returned. He has been missing for over two years now, and many of us feared him dead. I am pleased to know he lives.” 

“And he chose now to emerge?” Dayl Zoran sneered lightly. “Was he a Revanite himself, but for a last-minute change of heart?”

“No,” Satele answered, fighting to keep her voice neutral. “He—along with Jasme and Theron Shan, and his Astromech T7—had discovered the Revanite conspiracy. The four of them joined forces with Sith Lord Lana Beniko, and Wookie Smuggler Jakarro in uncovering how deep their treachery ran. He dropped out of contact because he did not know whom to trust anymore. He had greatly admired Darok, thought him incorruptible. His betrayal, along with Arkous’, made him realize that anyone could be a Revanite. He went underground with the rest of his new allies, thwarting the Order as often as they could until they had the proof they needed to expose all of the traitors.” 

“Then why wasn’t he among the crew that destroyed the jamming tower? And speaking of Prowle, Nox and Major Queens, when did they join this group?”

“Arro seemed to have been recovering from some illness when I met him on Rishi,” Satele answered. “He looked like he hadn’t been sleeping or eating for weeks before the Battle of Rishi. I do not know the details of this illness though, only that he was well by the time we moved to Yavin IV, where Revan was hiding. 

“Darths Prowle and Nox, it seemed, tracked down Beniko for her alleged murder of Darth Arkous—guided by visions of the Force, visions that suggested to both of them that all was not what it semed. Nonetheless, a fight broke out when they met, but in the end Beniko was able to convince them of her loyalty to her home. They heard what they had to say, and realized just how dangerous the Revanites were, and remained to help.

“As for Major Queens, he was on Rishi as a favor to his former CO General Garza. Apparently an experimental unit had gone rogue, and Garza needed them taken out discreetly. Once he was done, Theron Shan lured him to their hideout using planted rumors and some interesting bait.

“Bear with me now, please, I would like to recount the tale in full. Allow me to return to the beginning—with the raids on Korriban and Tython.”

Her colleagues nodded assent, and Satele began the story as had been told to her by Jasme. Satele felt deeply proud of her daughter: she had done a remarkable job of documenting hers and her allies’ mission. Theron, likewise, had been instrumental in weeding out the traitors.

The Jedi listened as Satele spoke at length. About how the timing of both attacks had made Theron Shan and Lana Beniko suspicious, and how their independent investigations had led them to Manaan. About Theron requesting Arro's help, after which the Jedi single-handedly assaulted the Underwater Laboratory which Arkous and Darok had been using, and how he had rescued the Wookie Jakarro there. Of how this new and unlikely band had followed their quarry to Rakata Prime, where Darok and Arkous had chosen to die rather than be taken alive, and how Revan had shown himself following his principal followers' demise. How the Revanites hiding in the upper echelons of both Republic and Empire had placed bounties on Theron Shan, Beniko, and Jakarro, making them fear just how far-reaching their power was, thus deciding to go underground. 

The next two years of the group's constant activities she only spoke of in brief, picking up the story on Rishi, where they reunited, having found the Revanites up to something big. 

She spoke next about how Nox and Prowle tracked Beniko down on Rishi, and how they were convinced to join the group instead of turning them in. She told them how Queens had been lured to their shack to enlist his aid in assaulting the Revanite Stronghold.

And then she recounted properly the Battle of Rishi, and told them about the temporary truce with Darth Marr, forged with the intention of thwarting the Emperor’s return.

“And so we get to Yavin,” she said. She had been speaking for hours, and her voice was beginning to tire. “The Emperor had a device called the Altar of Sacrifice. Revan planned to activate it, killing almost all life on the moon in order to bring Him back.”

“And how was he going to survive that ritual?” Ida asked dubiously. 

“Everyone within the Temple’s Core would remain safe,” Satele said, rubbing her eyes. “Or so he thought. I’m afraid that Revan was insane, running on hatred alone. Remember, this was only one half of Revan, ruthless cunning and ambition unburdened by compassion or wisdom.”

“So what happened on Yavin?”

“Not much to tell now. A standard pitched battle, a fight for every meter of ground with heavy losses, until we stood before the man himself, and ever we felt the clock ticking towards the moment he began the ritual. It was a close-run thing, but we made it to the Temple’s innermost sanctum before then, where Arro challenged him, and won.”

“Of course he did.” Nikil twirled a curl of his beard around a long finger. “He defeated the Emperor himself one-on-one; something even Revan himself couldn’t do.”

“If I may ask,” Gnost-Dural held up a finger. “Did anyone manage to take a recording of this duel? Undoubtedly, it will be one for the histories.” Ever the consummate Archivist, he was still upset that neither of Arro’s duels with the Emperor had been recorded. 

“Yes,” Satele answered. “The droid T7 had sent in probes ahead of us, we can ask him to upload it to the archives. Now that you mention it, I think it would be interesting for all of us to see it when we can find the time. We all knew Arro was a deadly swordsman, but truly nothing compares to actually seeing him perform at this level.”

“We can watch it right now,” Gnost-Dural said.

“Sure,” Kaedan laughed. “Let’s make it a real party, get us some drinks, and snacks! We’re not some tepid film critics’ club here, we don’t have time for a viewing party.”

“This isn’t just any Jedi we’re talking about, Master Kaedan,” Ibara frowned at him. “This is the one who killed the Emperor himself. And Revan was quite a legend too. Perhaps we would benefit from watching this confrontation as the Jedi Council, to better understand his limits, if nothing else.” Several of the Council nodded in agreement.

“So be it.” Satele said.

She keyed her datapad, and requested the relevant video file from the diligent T7-01. The little Astromech complied, and moments later sent it to the Council Chamber’s Holoprojector.

The lights dimmed, and the feed began to play.

Revan stood with dozens of his followers at the Heart of the Temple, striking an impressive pose standing before a pillar of light, and clearly in the middle of a lengthy monologue. But they could not make out what he was saying; for his words were being drowned out by the sounds of blasterfire and explosions, and the dying screams of those who fought to the death for a Madman’s dream.

The first one to reach Revan and his Guards was a short Sith wielding two lightsabers. The Lead Guard—a broad-shouldered Iridonian Jedi—engaged him as a pair of Twi’lek Sith flanked him. He held out briefly before he was overcome, but others quickly took his place and a full-scale fight broke out between the combined Republic-Imperial forces and the Revanites. His lightsabers cut through 

Revan himself joined in the fight, recklessly hurling debris and Lightning in equal measure, clipping even his allies without batting an eyelid. His face was contorted with a mad rage. He screamed something at his enemies—another monologue, going by the sheer length of his tirade.

Another group reached Revan’s guards, and were also beaten back.

The third charge was led by a woman with pale blonde hair and a burning orange blade.

“That’s her,” Satele commented for her colleagues’ benefit. “That’s Beniko.” The woman did not engage Revan and his guards, instead using the Force to Tear down a large globe idol which floated at the top of the column of light.

Revan noticed her a fraction too late. He howled in fury and amazement as she destroyed the core, and a strong hum seemed to dissipate from the cacophony of sounds. For a moment he stared at her, open-mouthed. “Who  _ are _ you?” he asked. They were finally able to hear him. “How did you do that?”

Whatever she said as she pointed her Saber’s tip straight at Revan was too soft to make out, but the fallen Jedi now looked thrice as mad. “Don’t you see what I’m doing?”

This time the pale woman’s answer was clearer. “Don’t you?” she challenged him.

“I am doing this to save the galaxy! The Emperor  _ must _ be destroyed and I am the one destined to do it! I have set my will against this creature for centuries, so only I can destroy him! Only I—”

“Oh, do shut up,” Beniko said, running a palm over her tired, red-rimmed eyes with her free hand. “Your arrogance is so out of control and your judgement so deluded, that the Emperor is far beyond your ability to cope. He’s not going to roll over and die for good just because you preach at him.”

“How  _ dare _ you!” He seethed. “We’ll see if you’re so smug when I’m through with you, you little rat!”

His guards attacked her, but reinforcements arrived, with Satele in the lead. Blasterfire filled the air once again, and when they saw that Revan himself was bearing down on the Sith woman, the guards turned their attention to the newcomers. “My own flesh and blood is standing against me! The depths of his corrupting influence are endless! I will waste no more time!” 

Revan let loose a stream of lightning, and Beniko Caught it effortlessly. Revan fired again and again, and was enraged to find his opponent more than capable of handling that kind of attack.

“Fine!” he screamed. “It seems this contest will only be decided by our skills with the Lightsaber.”

His charge was as feral as his voice; he was more Sith than Jedi. Beniko, who had destroyed the Temple’s idol, who had so easily Repelled the Lightning, was outmatched in a contest of blades.

She gave ground unsteadily as blow after furious blow knocked her further and further off-balance, until her saber was knocked from her hands. A backhand stroke almost ended her life, but she was Pulled aside with the Force, and Revan’s saber only left a slight wound below her neck.

Her saviour, a Mirialan Jedi wearing light brown robes landed between the two combatants, blue lightsaber sizzling and his expression intense. “Oh no you don’t!” he said, as he stood to his full height and raised his blade in a high guard. “Lana, are you alright?” 

Beniko nodded shakily. “I’ll be fine!”

“Your madness ends here, ‘Revan’.”

“You? I can understand all of these other fools standing in my way—they have not a single brain cell between them—not even my own blood!—but you? How can you, who knows the true horror that is the Emperor, stand in the way of peace?”

“Is that what you’re calling this? You’re sick, Revan, you need to see that. You’ve been consumed by your own hatred. Not to mention that out-of-control messiah complex of yours. You can’t even see that in weakening the Emperor’s enemies and resurrecting him, you are actually doing his work for him, rather than fighting him. You are his  _ pawn _ , no matter how much you think yourself his one true nemesis.”

“Oho! You think to lay claim to that title instead, don’t you?”

“No. But I did beat him,  _ twice _ , and you didn’t even think to ask for my help, which you would have done if you wanted to kill him. All you’ve tried is to kill me instead. That alone proves that the Emperor pulls your strings even if your mouth tries to deny reality. And you think you can end Him for good? You’re pathetic!”

A snarl erupted from Revan’s lips and he drew the second saber from his belt. “This! Is! My! DESTINY!” He declared, and activated it. A red blade sprung to life, casting a bloody tint upon their surroundings. “You cannot deny me!”

The last sounds of fighting stopped; the last of Revan’s guards had been taken down. A tight circle formed around Revan and Arro, threatening to hide them from T7’s probe, but the latter shook his head.

“Leave this to me! Anyone who tries to help me will only be getting in the way.”

“Very well,” Satele heard her own voice.

“No objections,” said a tall redheaded woman with a purple blade. “But can you shut him up already? His voice is giving me a headache!”

“I admit, I have been greatly looking forward to this,” came Darth Marr’s muffled voice, and he nodded to his men.

With that the circle loosened, giving both men plenty of space.

Revan opened his mouth to speak again but Arro forestalled him, closing the gap and opening with a lateral chop. All three sabers moved at a dazzling speed, the blue clashing against the violet and red ones to form an explosion of colorful plasma in midair. 

The swordsmen themselves danced in the eye of this lightning storm—pirouetting, sidestepping, weaving, and dodging so gracefully that they appeared to be performing the galaxy’s most beautiful dance. Their strikes grew faster and faster, until such was their speed that they appeared like a pair of living storms themselves.

So intent on the unfolding spectacle were they, that the audience appeared to have stopped breathing; the only sounds were the hum and clash of the lightsabers, which—by the sound of it—were crossing each other at least thirty times per second.

Satele had been as enchanted then by the duel as she was right now; despite this being the second time seeing Arro fighting at this level—no, the third, not second: Arro and Darth Prowle had engaged in an exhibition match shortly after they’d set up camp on Yavin IV as a morale booster—seeing it again still knocked the breath out of her chest. It felt like she hadn’t already watched this unfold before her eyes, but like a brand new experience.

For this reason she was as startled as the rest of the Council when Revan began to waver. The speed of Arro’s strikes had increased even further, and they were finding their way through near-invisible gaps in Revan’s defense, leaving him covered in scorch marks. He was so out of breath that he stumbled backwards and tore off his mask for the first time, proving to the confused onlookers that he was indeed Revan, despite some of them having encountered his spirit form too.

Gasping and coughing and spitting, he rose to his feet, holding his own limbs like they had become a thousand times heavier.

In contrast, Arro was breathing harder but was in much better shape, and his momentary look of surprise at seeing that his enemy was indeed not an imposter quickly vanished. He did not press his advantage however, giving his opponent the time to recover.

“You…” Revan began but descended into a coughing fit. “You are sealing the Galaxy’s fate!”

“If you still think that, you’re more far gone than I thought.”

“No… no! I have come too far!” 

Raising his trembling arms as high as he could he unleashed a thick deluge of Force Lightning. Watching the holofeed, Satele shivered; despite what it appeared, that had been more than mere Lightning; at the time, watching in person, those lances of Force-imbued electricity had Felt different from what Sith normally used. 

She made a mental note to describe the feeling to her colleagues later; how the Storm had seemed almost alive, and hungry to not just assault Revan’s enemies but to reduce them to microscopic ash. They were imbued with a Power she had never seen before. Arro disappeared in that stormy grasp, and for a second it appeared that he had blundered by allowing his enemy time to recover—had Lana screamed in horror? Satele didn’t think so, perhaps the Sith noticed that Arro had sidestepped the danger, perhaps her senses were better tuned than even her own—but she needn’t have worried. Arro reappeared at Revan’s flank and severed the ancient Jedi’s arms.

Revan howled in pain and shock. He fell onto his backside again, and attempted to reach the Force again, causing the ground to Quake, and fallen stone columns to Hurtle in Arro’s direction, but Arro smacked him hard in the solar plexus with an open palm—imbuing his blow with the Force—and Revan uttered a choked scream and fell onto his back, gasping for breath. This time he didn’t even try to rise. Nor did he Reach out to the Force. He appeared beaten.

The battle had ended, but Satele decided to allow her fellow Councillors to see the rest; the final moments of the Revenant Revan, and his ghost, the reemergence of the Emperor that dampened their triumph, and the final words that the ghost of Revan offered his vanquishers before disappearing—hopefully—for good.

There would be more to discuss once the feed ended.

* * *

Arro sat in the balcony near the Council chambers, trying to meditate but not quite able to manage it. He could feel the stares of some of the younger Jedi and most of the staff around him; most had believed that he was dead. His return had caused a flurry of whispers and occasional cheering, and Arro tried to bear it with the best grace he could manage.

But he had other things on his mind. For one thing, it had been two years since he had started working closely with Lana, and in all that time, they had rarely been parted long. Now there was half a galaxy separating them, and the Bond that linked their hearts also reminded Arro of that distance. He felt a little silly for pining already; in the years to come this was certain to become the norm. He would have to get used to operating without Lana again. No more going to bed with her warm body nestled in his arms, or hearing her gentle laughter, or the singular joy of speaking to her…

Lana. His wife. He felt a smile blossom on his face and he fingered the half-ring which he and Lana had shared at their little wedding ceremony on Rishi. Despite his yearning to, he was keeping it on his chain for the time being: he was not yet ready to announce his nuptials to the galaxy. Not until the threat of Vitiate was addressed.

Yet even that was not foremost on his mind. No, he was lost in thought about the last time he had returned to the Council after being presumed dead or worse. And it was eating him up.

*

**Six years ago**

“Master Arro?”

Arro jumped onto his feet, barely stopping the scream that formed in his throat. “!... Yes?”

The woman in front of him frowned, her large brown eyes filling with concern. She looked familiar. “Master… are you alright?”

Fia, Arro remembered belatedly. Her name was Fia, and she was at least twelve years older than him.

“Not really. And I’m not a Master, Fia. Just a Knight. And maybe not even that for much longer.”

“Well, you’re still one now,” Fia said, patting him on the shoulder. “And I’m still a Padawan, so ‘Master’ is what I have to call you.”

Arro chuckled. “I assume you’re here to…?”

“Yes. The Council has summoned you.”

“Off I go then,”

“And Master…?” she called hesitantly, and he turned back to face her.

She struggled with herself for a moment, then launched her arms around him. “I’m so glad you’re still alive!” 

* * *

Arro stood in the center of the Council chamber, and all of his Elders’ attention was divided between himself and his new companion. He tried to hide how weak he felt, and must have failed, for Scourge snorted and eyed him knowingly.

“Welcome home, Arro!” Master Satele said, her face a picture of Jedi serenity. “We are grateful that you have returned. When the team went silent, we feared the worst.”

"The worst," he repeated tonelessly. 

"We thought you had fallen to the Dark Side."

"Not fallen. Enslaved. The Emperor ensnared all of us. The entire 'Elite Strike Team' are now his slaves." 

"Oh, spare us the nitpicking,  _ boy _ !" Master Kaedan pointed a finger at him angrily. "You fought for the Emperor. Killed for him! And now you come before us alongside his personal butcher! How do we know that you are indeed free of his control? I say we lock him up. And his new comrade too!" 

_ What? _ Arro had returned to what he had once thought of as home, and he felt just as isolated as when he had been a thrall. He futilely fought the rising panic attack, attempting to stem the flow of tears in his eyes, and the sobs that threatened to rack his body.

This time, Scourge seemed at least half-sympathetic. 

* * *

**Present Day**

The memory still stung today. 

Arro had felt too dull to respond. Others on the Council had also called for him to be locked away as well. Without even a proper investigation! Were they trying to hide him away somewhere they could forget about him, he wondered. 

Were they truly so foolish? Were these the people he had once looked up to? 

It had taken the eloquent pleas of Masters Satele, Gnost-dural, Kiwiiks, and Syo Bakarn to calm the others. 

Even once they'd been calmed, they had barely acknowledged the horrors he had endured, and which the others were still going through. They had let him go only reluctantly and not even scott-free: they had assigned a team of Knights to watch for signs of corruption during his missions on Belsavis, Voss, and Corellia. 

But that wasn't even what hit him hardest. He had arrived with his spirits crushed following his enslavement after that reckless and royally botched mission, and they were now sending him right back out there in the thick of things, on another mission. No rest, no recovery. Not even a word of compassion. 

Did they see him as nothing more than a weapon? A blade to be used again and again only to be discarded when it was all used up? 

Perhaps they didn't realise just what he had been through, he reassured himself. There was a lot going on, with the war reigniting and all. Some of their strongest members had been enslaved. Perhaps they were just tense and afraid, he'd told himself. 

Now he wondered. Had that been true? Or was it a deeper fear? 

"Master Arro," a voice came. "The Council calls." 

He looked at the young Iktotchi Padawan. This time he really didn't recognize the Council's messenger. 

"Very well." 

* * *

The first to speak was Dayl Zoran. "Welcome home, Arro. Satele told us that you seemed ill only a few weeks ago, but I see that you are none the worse for wear. Indeed, you have the beating of a true Master now. All of the darkness and I have sensed within you since you defeated Angral has been cleansed. You are truly worthy of your rank now, a Jedi in truth."

Perhaps Arro was too surprised, or too tired, to have a proper response. All he said was "Thank you, Master."

"Your work against Revan and his followers has been truly exceptional," Master Satele said, speaking with her formal voice. "And your expertise in combating the Emperor is second to none. You embody every ideal in the Jedi Code, and so the Council is unanimous in it's decision to name you Battlemaster of the Jedi Order. Of course, this comes with the formal promotion to the rank of Jedi Master." 

"Thank you, Master."

Satele frowned slightly. Was he alright? 

"As Battlemaster, your strategic insights will guide the Council, and you will impart your Lightsaber skills to the Order's most gifted students. But most of all, you will lead the charge against the Sith Emperor, along with any who choose to follow him." 

"Yes, Master." 

There was no denying it. He was definitely being too reserved. 

"Is there something you wish to talk about?" Master Kiwiiks asked him. "You seem distracted." 

After a pause, Arro nodded slowly. 

"Have you heard of a Sith Lord named Trykhgar?" 

_ What? _ Satele's breath caught. _ Oh no _ .

"Of course we have," Dayl nodded, and Satele groaned internally. It was times like this that Satele wished the Council had a table or something, so that she could subtly kick one of her colleagues' ankles to warn them to stop talking. Alas there were no tables here, and Dayl was a good five feet to her left, so he continued talking. 

"He was a deadly Sith Lord of unknown origin. He was introduced to the world shortly after the war resumed; he appeared to be a barely controlled, savage monster rather than Sith. Nevertheless, he demolished Darth Vengean, who was a member of the Dark Council, and the Head of Military Offense in a live broadcast. It wasn't even a contest."

Around her, Satele noticed the other members shift uncomfortably. Damn that fool! If only he could read the atmosphere and stop talking! A prodigy in the Force he might be, but Dayl was sorely lacking in this regard. 

"Over the next eight months, he was unleashed by his Master time and again upon his enemies, both Imperial and Republic. Each time he was deployed to kill a single target but was suffered by the Emperor to kill as many as he pleased to sate his bloodlust. He appeared on several battlefields and brought wanton destruction down upon both sides like wildfire, before disappearing again. After eight months of senseless killing, he disappeared as suddenly as he had arrived. Gone without a trace, like a wisp of smoke. It was rumoured that the Emperor grew afraid that his monster would slip the leash, and turn on him."

Arro had gone pale. His fists were clenched and his jaw tight. "Yeah. That's the one." 

_ Oh no _ , Satele thought. Only the Force knew what was going to happen next. 

* * *

They knew, everyone except for the Nautolan Jedi Master. He could tell from how they squirmed and shrank. The way they all tried to silently will Master Dayl into shutting up, without being too obvious about it. 

Tragically, whenever the Jedi Order's most ardent scholar began a lecture, he became oblivious to such subtlety. But the longer he spoke, the more the others cringed, and by the number of red human faces alone he could tell that they had all known. 

When Dayl finished recounting what he knew about the infamous Sith Lord, he sat expectantly, as though waiting for applause. 

"Yeah. That's the one." Arro said, surprised to find how steady his voice was. Around him, a barely audible chorus of groans rang out. 

"Did you discover something about him?" Dayl asked eagerly. 

"In a manner of speaking," Arro replied. "When I was on Rishi my memories of my time as the Emperor's thrall returned. I remembered him. I remembered  _ being _ him." 

The Nautolan Master's forehead crinkled in confusion. " _ Being _ him? What do you mean—oh!" 

Looking around, he finally registered all the exasperated stares aimed at him. "Oh." he repeated, eyes growing wide and tentacles twitching. 

Arro sighed. "How long have you all known?" 

"We pieced it together over the years," Master Ibara said evasively, but after years of the shadow-war with the Revanites, Arro could all but taste the falsehood. 

"You're lying," he accused her, his tone even. "You knew right away, didn't you? The moment you saw the Emperor's broadcast?  _ That's  _ why you were all so eager to lock me up and throw away the key!" 

"Well what did you expect?" Master Kaedan retorted, the red in his face more likely anger than embarrassment. "Do you have any idea what things seemed like that day? You returned to us after a months-long, monstrous killing-spree--the Emperor's own hitman in tow no less!--and we were supposed to accept you with open arms?" 

"No, of course not. But you didn't have to be such a phenomenal bag of dicks about it." Arro was feeling deeply disappointed. Master Kaedan opened his mouth but Arro held up a finger demanding his silence. Surprisingly, the militant master deflated. "There were gentler ways of putting me not in prison but in quarantine. I wasn't the first Jedi requiring rehabilitation. I needed compassion and healing, kindness and understanding. Instead all you gave me was your venomous tongue. You have no idea how badly that hurt has lingered these past years.

"And not  _ just _ Master Kaedan either," he rounded on the rest of them. "More than two-thirds of you were denouncing me as a traitor, or worse." 

"Mind your anger, young Jedi…" Master Nikil tried to say, attempting to deflect the direction this conversation was taking. "It leads to the Dark Side." 

"So I've been told," Arro rolled his eyes so hard he momentarily feared they might pop out of their sockets. "I don't feel particularly angry right now. Betrayed, hurt, disappointed, yes. But not angry. This Council has espoused remarkably high standards of conduct from the rest of us, but when time comes, you act like a bunch of squabbling chickens. 

"Have you forgotten, my Masters, how I begged you—on my knees—to rethink Master Braga's mission? I warned you all that you were grossly underestimating the Emperor. I warned you that it would certainly end in failure unless you understood what he really was."

Master Kaedan snorted, nodding despite himself. He had been the only one to have agreed with Arro on that point. He more than anyone seemed to understand that the Sith were not to be taken so lightly. That walking in the Light did not mean inevitable victory, contrary to Jedi dogma. 

‘Redeeming’ the Sith Emperor? ‘Redeeming’ the Sith and reforming the Empire by just that one act? It was a pipe dream.

“I told you that walking in the Light did not guarantee victory, as had been proven during the sacking of Coruscant. I told you that the Force’s will wasn’t always a benign thing; that it was probably the will of the Force that such a destructive war had been fought in the first place! And yet only Master Kaedan agreed with me. The rest of you fell back to dogma and baseless false confidence.”

"It was a noble cause," Master Ida said, raising her chin stubbornly. "Ending the war, bringing peace, no matter the cost. We had to try it." 

"I thought the Jedi Creed was 'Do or do not, there is no try'?" Arro shot back. "But that's not the only issue here! I had gone along with your hare-brained scheme despite my misgivings, and had suffered greatly for it. But when I returned, you all treated me like dirt, sent me right back into that meat grinder, and made me feel like I should be grateful I even got to see the light of day again. You didn't treat me like a person, but a soulless tool. I put my trust in you, and all along you were willing to toss me aside the second I was no longer of any use!"

"Now that's a little unfair, Arro," Master Kiwiiks said. "I for one, would have allowed you a decade if you needed it." 

"And so would Master Satele," Arro nodded. "And perhaps Master Gnost-dural as well. I am deeply grateful for Elders such as you, for without you I would be truly disillusioned. Likewise, there are many Jedi whom I trust—and always will—as individuals. But as a body, this Council has lost my trust." 

There was a shocked silence in the Chamber. 

“On Rishi, I remembered  _ everything _ . Every person I tortured and killed. I remembered their faces, their pleas. I remember  _ laughing _ at them, making sport of them. And when the memories returned they almost broke me. It took the efforts of a Sith—our supposed enemy—to help me find peace at long last, and as Master Zoran has noted, it was the first time in years I felt free of that dark burden. All the Jedi gave me was more missions, and more pain.”

He looked around at them again. "If it's still what you want, I will be your Battlemaster," he informed them. "For I cannot ignore the threat the Emperor poses, but nor do I pretend that I'm the only one who can stop him. If I can teach Jedi to be able to better stand against him, I will. But once the Order is better situated to deal with Him—or if we actually manage to bring him down—after that, I'm out."

No one moved to revoke the titles they had only just conferred upon him, but Arro didn't have to study them closely to know that he had made some enemies here today, not least of all Dayl Zoran, but he didn’t even care anymore. So far as he was concerned, they had used and betrayed him on several occasions, and he no longer felt like he belonged.

He sighed. So much had happened, and so much more promised to in the coming decades. He wished he could just be done with all that. To say that he had done enough for one lifetime. But the Emperor was still out there, and having faced him so often Arro felt like being part of this fight was his responsibility. At the very least, he knew that if he did nothing, he would regret it as the years wore on. 

He felt Lana reach for him, seeking his love and support, and knew that the pressures must have already begun to wear at her too. Rubbing his face to hide his return to good humor, Arro allowed himself to bask in their shared happy place and smiled as the Masters continued their preaching around him. 

Yes, he and Lana might be hundreds of light-years apart for the foreseeable future, but their minds were still joined together. The feel of her presence in his heart made the prospect of the coming turmoil feel infinitely more bearable.

* * *

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I saved Kaedan for this because let's face it, he's the nastiest old coot of the Council


End file.
